Queme

Of body she was right avenant, Of fair colour, with sweet semblant. Her attire full well it seem'd, Marvellich the king she quemed.

On fair Corea's shellèd stream, My fancy floats without restraint; Pagodas, wrought in porcelain, teem On every side, of fabric quaint. While genii pleased my sense to queme, the blue-foamed Yang-ste-Kiang, faint Before my gaze depict in dream, Ebbing its ripples with my plaint.

Nothing Jesus Christ more quemeth (pleaseth) Than love in wedlock where men it yemeth (keepeth);